Page 84 of Unmasking the Earl

“Cassie, you’re going the wrong way.”

“Am I? So sorry. It’s these huge skirts. I just can’t work out where my legs are underneath, and I keep barging into people or losing my place.”

“Might I suggest you concentrate more on the steps and less on staring at everybody else?”

“Was I? Forgive me.” She tried to pay attention to her feet.

“I must say, your outfits are splendid. Did your family all go to the same costumier?” he asked.

“No, they were sent to us by the duke.”

“Really?” His head went back in the way he had that meant he was perplexed. It suddenly reminded her of a tortoise stretching its neck.

“There was a note on the back of the invitation, so we assume they were from Paxton…”

“You are privileged, indeed. No one else has received such bounty that I am aware of.”

He gazed down at her consideringly, and she looked up into his green eyes, shaded to a dark emerald by the mask. Yes, green was a very pleasing color for a gentleman’s eyes. But brown eyes… Eyes the color of aged whiskey were something very special.

“Cassie?”

“Hmm?”

“You seem to have forgotten how to dance.”

She came to with a start. “Sorry!”

What was wrong with her? These skirts, this tight-lacing, no doubt. They made movement a very different experience.

“Cassie.”

“Yes, Julian?”

“Concentrate please.”

She did her best. She was aware as the dance progressed that Julian’s eyes were boring into hers, and his smile had vanished.

“Oh. And I’m to congratulate you, of course. Do you think Lady Lucy will make you happy?”

Clearly, this was the right thing to say. Cassie had to spend the next few measures, each time they came together, listening to Julian recite a list of Lady Lucy’s charms, achievements, and pedigree.

How exceedingly dull. Had he always been this boring?

It was a mercy when their dance came to an end. She curtsied briefly then just stared past his shoulder, dismissing him with barely a thought.

The gentleman in black was striding toward her.

Lord Stranraer.

He bowed, took her in his arms, and almost lifted her off the ground as he swirled her around in time to the music. She didn’t bang into anyone, get her skirts caught, trip, elbow, nor was she elbowed. He sliced his way through the throng with the precision of a diamond cutter, light and sure on his feet, and not in any way, shape, or form similar to a carthorse.

He took total control, and she barely had to think about the steps or the music. She and he were one. They moved and danced as one.

Why did he not speak? She waited, held captive by his eyes and his hands, floating along as if on a cloud. How was it that she, too, was tongue-tied? She had so many questions. So many things to tell him. All around them was a hubbub of gay chatter, dancing partners conversing and laughing. They were the only pair who remained silent.

The tension built to a point where she could stand it no longer.

“Ned,” she said on a strangled breath. “Don’t you know me?”